Entry #3 in my four-part holiday fiction series:
Here's the thing about sheep. They're not the smartest animals. They need constant care, constant guidance. They need to be protected. In the open fields, they cannot be left alone.
So I don't care what you've got going on, what important errand you suddenly need to run, when my sheep are under your care, they are your life.
This last group I had--and I'm going to be real honest with you here--turned out to be useless. I thought they were good--I would never have hired them otherwise, and they did good work--or I would have fired them earlier. But they broke my cardinal rule. They left the flock, and when they did, they left their jobs as well. They say they went to see a baby born in Bethlehem; that angels appeared to them. Well, I"m sorry but mental soundness is a must for this job--those seeing visions and hearing voices need not apply. And I don't care if it's your own child being born, when you're on the job, the sheep are your life.
To be honest, rather than a pack of average sheep-herding hacks, I'd be more than satisfied with just one good shepherd. Never mind some baby, find me that man, and that's something worth celebrating.